


Mercy

by jewelswrites_ish



Series: Mercy [1]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: F/M, Steve Rogers x Reader - Freeform, Steve Rogers x You - Freeform, steve rogers x y/n - Freeform, stever rogers series
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-02-12
Updated: 2019-02-12
Packaged: 2019-10-26 14:59:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,903
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17748059
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jewelswrites_ish/pseuds/jewelswrites_ish
Summary: Summary: Starting your first day at your new job, a series of unfortunate events begin to happen, along with realizing the person you cursed out was the owner of the company (im terrible at summarizing stuff. Just read it!)





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Word Count: 2011
> 
> Warnings: cursing
> 
> A/N: A B-I-G thank you to a good friend of mine for this idea; without her tags I never would have thought about this series. I’m not sure how long this series is going to be, however, I needed it in my life. I’m a big fan of the beard; it will be included in this fic. This fic will eventually turn smutty (‘cause why the hell not); this chapter is just the beginning so bear with me.

“Fuck I’m gonna be late.” Running toward the nearest coffee shop, you stood in the long line, your leg shaking from your impatience. It was your first day as an Associate Attorney at Rogers, Romanoff and Barton, Partners at Law and already you were going to make a bad impression. It didn’t help the day had started off on a bad foot; thunderous clouds rolled in, rain dripped from the sky at rushing speeds, your coffee maker wasn’t working and you had to change your stockings due to a run in the material. Normally little things didn’t bother you knowing there were solutions to everything, however, the little things piled on top of each other in a quick pace and your mood quickly soured. 

 

“Hi, can I get a caramel macchiato with almond milk, please?” The barista nodded, taking your drink order. Thankfully the orders were being fulfilled quickly and you were able to be in and out of the coffee shop in a matter of a few minutes. With your new job being just across the street, you believed you could rush across the pedestrian walkway and into the building with ease – but of course it seemed whatever bad luck you had attracted hadn’t faltered.

Walking out of the little coffee shop, your attention was pulled to your cellphone as you peeked at the time. Suddenly you felt something hard it your arm causing the hot coffee to spill all over your white and black blouse, burning your skin. “Son of a bitch!” Looking down at your shirt you knew there was no saving the stain.

“I’m terribly sorry.” The voice belonged to a man who you would have gone goo-goo eyed for in any other situation, however in your current state, you wanted to rip his beautiful blue eyes from its sockets for being so careless. “Let me buy you a new shirt.”

“No time, asshole. I’m already late for my first day on the job. But a word of advice, watch where you’re going.” Sending one last glare his way, leaving him in bewilderment, you made your way toward your job, zooming through the walkway and into the building. 

 

“Y/N!” The receptionist, Wanda, who happened to be a good friend and your roommate, hurried you over, scanning your badge so you were clocked in before it was too late. “Thank God, I thought maybe you skipped town. But I see you were in a  fight you clearly lost.” Pointing down to the large coffee stain on your shirt, the receptionist shook her head. “That’s not salvageable, hun.”

“I’m aware,” you answered with an eye roll. “I don’t have a spare shirt either,” you complained with a frustrated sigh, leaning against the reception counter. “Please tell me  there’s a solution to this.”

“I do have a spare shirt, but I’m not sure it’ll fit you.”

“I’ll try anything right now; better to look like I don’t know how to dress than show how clumsy I can be.” Wanda laughed, agreeing with you. “I gotta go up to my desk and get a few things started; you think you can get that shirt to me soon?”

“Yeah, I’ll be up there in a few. I gotta finish listening to the voicemails and distribute them, then I’ll be up.” Thanking her one more time, you moved toward the elevator, thankful you were the only one in it. Once you reached your floor, you moved to your desk where your desk mate, Sam Wilson, eyed your shirt before giving you a pitiful look.

“Don’t give me a hard time about it,” you instructed him, throwing your purse in your drawer before flipping on your computer.

“I guess now would be a bad time to tell you Romanoff is looking for you.” A rough sigh escaped your lips as you slumped in your chair. “She’s in her office.”

“Five bucks says I’m already fired.” Normally you weren’t so negative but with the way things that were already going on, you wouldn’t be surprised. Getting to your feet, you made your way over to your supervisor’s office. You had met Natasha previously and had liked her sarcastic persona; it resembled yours. Knocking on the doorframe, you offered a smile as Natasha’s head rose, her gaze falling upon the coffee stain. A vast range of emotions flashed through her face, but the present one was concern; when your eyes collided with the man in her office, you understood why.

Sitting in one of the two seats in front of her desk rested a familiar face; the same face you had cursed out not ten minutes prior. “I bet you regret not taking me up on that new shirt offer?” Closing your mouth from embarrassment, your head hung low, unsure of what to say. You had completely forgotten Nat’s email stating  you were going to be meeting the owner of the company on your first day; it was just your luck the owner of the company was the same man who had spilled the coffee on you.

Getting to his feet, he approached you with an extended arm. “Steve Rogers, also known as ‘ _ asshole’ _ .” Biting your tongue, you offered him a sorrowful smile as you shook his hand.

“You two know each other?” Natasha asked hesitantly, getting to her feet.

“Yeah, I’m the reason there’s coffee on her shirt,” Rogers answered, releasing your hand.

“In his defense,” you spoke up, your gaze falling upon your supervisor. “I wasn’t paying attention.” This took the CEO by surprise but he said nothing as your face had shown how embarrassed you were.

“Natasha and I were just speaking about your resume and I wanted to get your opinion on a potential client; whether it would be worth taking them on or not. Would you be available and cleaned up after lunch?” His blue hues peered down at you so authoritatively, you could feel your legs begin to become weak under his stare.

 

“Y-Yes sir.” 

 

“Good, I’ll see you in my office, one ‘o clock sharp.” Offering a nod to Natasha, Steve walked off with such a sauve strut you almost melted where you stood. 

 

“I hope you have a change of clothes somewhere,” Natasha mumbled, sitting back in her seat. She sported a small smirk, shaking her head at your reaction. 

 

* * *

 

“Mr. Rogers is huge!”

 

“You’re telling me. I could see those muscles bulging out of that beautiful dark blue suit,” you replied. After telling Wanda what had happened, you decided to utilize your lunch break by going to the nearest department store and buying a brand new shirt to be presentable for the owner of RR&B. “I think it was Armani,” you added, pulling out a shirt resembling yours without the stain.

 

“No, Y/N.” Wanda rolled her eyes as she sported an amused smirk. “I mean, his firm is huge; he’s very well known throughout the state, maybe even the country. If he wants your opinion on something, let alone a client, you’re being welcomed in the VIP section, my friend.” Her words didn’t help the nervous jitters you already had.

 

“Yeah, I’ll just compartmentalize that away so I’m not falling over myself in his office,” you groaned, pulling out another shirt.

 

“You’ll do great. You know this business like the back of your hand thanks to your schooling,” Wanda assured, placing a shirt in your arms.

 

“Schooling and real world are two different things, Wanda.”

 

“Yeah if you’re talking about policing or something like that. But you’ve studied with some of the best and have memorized a shit ton of cases, passing with an almost perfect GPA.”

 

“Would have been perfect if that son of a bitch Professor Stark didn’t fight with me over the grand scheme of things.” 

 

“Exactly; you’ll do perfect.”

 

“Fine. But first I need to find a shirt that doesn’t smell like rotten milk.”

 

* * *

 

The time was twelve fifty-nine and you waited outside Mr. Rogers’ door. You were all about being prompt despite the obstacles you faced that morning, but Mr. Rogers stressed the time and you wanted to ensure you were abiding by his wishes. He was the CEO, owner of the company, meaning any wrong move and you could be out on your ass; another washed up law student on the streets of New York City.

 

Looking down at your new shirt, you were pleased with it. Sticking with a white color, the blouse had fitted nicely against your body, the sleeves coming out like bells. It was tucked into the black and white pencil skirt you originally wore, matching with the white and black heels. Fixing your hair, you knocked on the door three times, waiting for your instructions to enter.

 

The door opened, revealing a woman who welcomed you. Walking inside the office, you realized it was an office in an office. You assumed the woman was his very own receptionist, or secretary, besides his two paralegals working tirelessly around the clock. “Mr. Rogers is in his office,” she informed you, directing you toward the fogged glass doors. Quickly you scurried over; the doors opening as you approached.

 

Sitting at his desk in all his glory, you spotted Mr. Rogers on a call. He held a finger up at you, indicating for you to wait until he was done. Doing so, you stood in the middle of his office, your gaze falling upon the floor to ceiling windows showing the vast city of New York. Mr. Rogers’ office rested on one of the highest floors, granting you the view of the city skyline. Since that morning the skies had cleared, revealing the sun to warm the cool day. 

 

“I see you’ve changed your shirt.” Moving your gaze from the window to Mr. Rogers, you noticed he had ended his call and moved to sit on the corner of his desk. With the button undone from his suit jacket, you noticed just how toned he was underneath his white button down shirt. “This one looks good.”

 

“Thank you,” you mumbled, a redness creeping up in your cheeks. Moving a strand of hair behind your ear, you took a step closer. “You said I could assist you on something?” 

 

“Straight to the point, I like it.” The intensity from his icy blue eyes weren’t missed and you felt a shiver travel down your spine as her rose. “One of our potential clients have been persistent in being represented by our firm for years. I haven’t given them a definitive answer because I worry they’re more trouble than what they’re worth; I would like your set of eyes on the project.” 

 

“Why mine?” you ask, brows tugged together. 

 

“‘Cause you’ve worked and studied under Tony Stark of Stark Associates; my rival.” It suddenly made sense why you were hired so quickly and asked to view/overlook potential client information on you first day. Nodding at his words, you looked down at your feet for a brief moment, a smile forming. 

 

“So the rest of my resume and everything else I’ve done doesn’t really mean anything, just the fact that I know how Stark works interests you?”

 

“Yes,” he answered plainly. “I’m not sorry about this, Ms. Y/L/N. But in this industry it’s kill or be killed, and in this instance I have an advantage against my rival in business. You.” He pointed toward you, his bottom lip disappearing behind his teeth.

 

“I appreciate the offer, Mr. Rogers…”

 

“Please, call me Steve,” he interrupted. “And before you decline, can I mention you’ll be given a new title, better pay and a better view.” He nodded over toward his floor to ceiling windows, pointing out just how beautiful it was to watch the skyline from such a height. 

 

“You don’t handle rejection well, do you?” you questioned, balancing your weight on one leg. Steve shook his head, an amused smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. Briefly he pouted; your eyes darted to his bottom lip wanting nothing more than to bite on it - feel it against your skin. “Fine,” you agreed, defeated. Steve smiled victoriously and stood, extending his hand.

 

“Pleasure to have you on board, Ms. Y/L/N.”

 

“Please, call me Y/N.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Summary: After getting your own office and your first assignment, you race to beat the clock … and are met with a surprise. (im terrible at summarizing stuff. Just read it!)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Word Count: 2305
> 
> Warnings: none.
> 
> A/N: Here’s the anticipated second chapter. And believe me when I say, I’m not too happy with it but I wanted to get it out. I know y’all are waiting for some awesome smut - unfortunately, as you probably already saw, it won’t be in this chapter. Yes, I have a thing for dragging things out. More than likely it’ll be in the next chapter; I’m trying to set the scene here.

The following day your belongings had been moved from your desk on the tenth floor, into your own office on the floor underneath Steve’s. It wasn’t as big as his, but it was a private office nonetheless. Since you stepped into the room, you moved to the floor to ceiling windows, a small smile forming while you watched the view in adoration. New York was beautiful and you were thankful for the opportunities you were given - the obstacles which led to where you were. To say your head hadn’t grown a little bit was a lie; anyone’s ego would have inflated walking into an office as such knowing it was theirs. However, it clearly lowered after remembering why you were in the position you were in.

 

Though Professor Stark had been a madman when it came to grades and the two of you fought endlessly over yours, you still respected him. Stark was intelligent, strong-willed and headstrong which was why he was the successful entrepreneur/attorney that he was; to aid in the destruction of his company put a damper in your mood. 

 

_ ‘It’s a kill or be killed industry. _ ’ Steve’s words echoed in your mind as you turned on your heel, making your way to your cherry oak desk, logging into your computer. When the screen flashed, a picture of Steve Rogers displayed as the wallpaper; it was a picture of him winking. Your bottom lip caught between your teeth as your gaze fell upon his face. The beard was doing wonders for you, envisioning it scratching your inner thighs. “Get a handle on yourself,” you scolded, sighing at your inability to control your thoughts. 

 

Opening up your email, the first one was from Steve, attaching all the documentation you needed to review the potential client’s issues.

 

“Look at you.” You didn’t need to look up to see who had entered your office … unannounced. Sam Wilson was notorious for that. You knew him from your college days as he was friends with Wanda. The two of you had shared many nights together - not in that sense. More like Wanda was more the book nerd, anti-partying roommate, and that’s where Sam came in. He was your go-to whenever you needed a night to relax and release any and all stress college work was putting on you. “Don’t you go on and forget about us little people,” he snarked with an amused smirk. 

 

“Forget you? Impossible.” Getting up from your desk, you moved to embrace your friend in a hug, holding him tightly.

 

“This office is dope,” he complimented, walking over to the windows. “You got a perfect view of New York from here.”

 

“The one in my office is better.” Steve suddenly appeared at your door, his hands in his suit jacket pockets. The glare he was sending to Sam was one which could kill; you moved to save Sam from the icy blue daggers. 

 

“Steve, this is Sam Wilson. We went to law school together,” you introduced with a smile.

 

“Did you also work under Tony Stark?”

 

“Nah, that was all Princess here. She was the brains of the class.” You smiled up at Sam, lightly nudging his arm.

 

“Then you don’t belong on this floor. Please return to your desk.” The tension between the two men suddenly grew intense with Sam glaring at Steve with as much ferocity Steve was glaring at him. Of course Sam obliged as he didn’t want to get fired, but instigated the situation by placing a small kiss on your cheek as he confirmed your lunch date. When Sam had disappeared behind the metal doors of the elevator, Steve’s body language quickly changed.

 

“How do you like your new office?” he asked with a small smile.

 

“I love it,” you assured him. “Thank you for your gift; a picture of you as my computer background was the last thing I expected. Normal people give succulents.” 

 

“I thought you might like it.” Steve sported an amused smirk, leaning against the corner of your desk. “I would like for you to review the documentation as soon as possible. Get me a report on your findings and opinion on the matter by lunch time.” If you would have been sipping on your coffee, you would have choked it up. 

 

“Lunch time? There are hundreds, maybe even a thousand pages to these documents...each.”

 

“Then don’t waste anymore time.” Refraining from the eye roll you wanted to offer, you looked down at your hands and nodded. Steve turned making his way toward the door. He stopped at the exit, turning so he could look at you. “I know you can do this.”

 

* * *

 

Your suit jacket had been removed not five minutes after Rogers left your office. He was testing you, it was obvious. He wanted to see if you would crack under pressure, but you were going to show him it would take more than reviewing documentation and mapping up a report in less than four hours to break you. Of course, you knew there was no way you were going to review everything with that little amount of time, so you decided to do the next best thing; go to the potential client themselves. 

 

This form of loophole just might get you fired, but Steve’s words continued to repeat in your head: this industry is kill or be killed. There wasn’t a speckle of an idea as to why it was that statement repeating in your head. Maybe it was due to Steve’s blatant tone of voice or maybe it was because your subconscious was trying to mold your mentality into it. Whatever the reason was, it helped in your situation. 

 

The potential client was able to get you updated information with their own previous proceeding transcripts and NDA’s; so you edited them, inputting your own data, adding your own figures and, ultimately, creating your conclusion to whether Rogers should take them on as a client or not. In the end, the decision wasn’t up to you but up to Steve and the Partners on the board - or more rather, Steve. You wanted to impress him, show just how much of a hard and good worker you were. A part of you shivered from the thought of that day being your last; your nerves began to get the best of you.

 

Looking at the time, you sat at your desk, rolling yourself closer to your computer. A soft sigh escaped your lips, your eyes closing briefly as a hand ran down your face. “Most people use the windows to watch the city.” Natasha had entered your office, her finger pointed toward the figures scribbled with dry erase marker all over the glass.

 

Being in no mood for sarcastic quips, you offered a tired smile. “What can I do for you?” you asked in your best ‘please don’t annoy me’ tone. 

 

“I just wanted to see how you were coming along with Steve’s request, but I can see you’ve got it handled,” she spoke, obviously impressed.

 

“No coffee breaks and almost four hours later,” you assured her, nodding over to your art on the windows. “I didn’t have anywhere else to place my thoughts so I figured he wouldn’t mind if I temporarily defaced property.”

 

“Lucky for you he won’t find out just yet.” Arching a brow at Natasha, you insisted she continued her statement as she took a purposeful dramatic pause. “Steve has a car waiting outside for you. You’re meeting him at the Marea.” 

 

Your eyes widened almost instantly. “Marea? Isn’t it over a hundred dollars per person even for lunch?” Natasha nodded, immune to your shock. “Isn’t that a bit excessive?” 

 

“Once you realize nothing is too excessive for Steve Rogers, you’ll no longer be surprised by what he does.” Heeding her advice, you offered a nod and gathered your things. “I would take your presentation with, just in case.” Without another word, Natasha sent a wink your way and left your office, closing the door behind her. 

 

* * *

 

Walking into Marea, your eyes thoroughly scanned the interior. It was beautifully decorated but honestly didn’t look as expensive as you had believed it was. Despite your thoughts, you graciously thanked Steve as he approached you with a smile, directing you to a private booth in the back … where the lights were dimmed. Thinking this as odd, you chalked it up to Steve wanting to keep his identity hidden from the patrons just in case; so they wouldn’t bother him during a meeting. 

 

“Have you ever been here?” Steve questioned, pulling the chair out for you. Shaking your head, you politely thanked him before taking the seat, helping him to push your chair in. “It’s not top on my list, but it’s closer than my favorites and figured you wanted to stay in the city.”

 

“No disrespect, Steve, but you seem like the kind of guy who doesn’t really care what other people prefer.” This caused him to smirk as he took the seat across from you. 

 

“You’re right,” he concluded. The waiter approached the table, filling both glasses with  Dom Perignon, a chardonnay costing $69.00 a glass. It took every fiber in your being not to reject the glass thinking it was absurd to waste money on something so menial like a drink. Thanking the waiter, you requested a few minutes to review the menu to make your selection. 

 

Once your eyes scanned the menu, your anxiety shot through the roof; the menu made no sense to you. It was mostly in Italian with the only English portions being the descriptions of each plate. In addition, there were no prices next to the plates which worried you. “I’ll admit, this menu is a little intimidating,” you confessed with a light chuckle, keeping your gaze down to the menu.

 

“Might I suggest…” His words trailed off, naming the handful of dishes he believed you’d like. Your attention was pulled elsewhere; the music playing lightly in the background. The atmosphere, the ambience - it all seemed a little more personal than business casual. Moving your gaze to the party of two against the wall, they were huddled together speaking in hushed voices, smiles tugging at their lips as their eyes spoke a familiar language. Averting your gaze to the other side of you, another couple sat together - their fingers laced together. 

 

“I’ll have the Granchio,” you interrupted him, placing your menu on the table. “And while we wait for the waiter to return, let me show you what I have concluded about the potential client and their business could mean to the firm.” Steve sat back in his seat, his expression unreadable. It was obvious he wasn’t used to being talked over; someone in his position with his amount of money, it was some sort of unwritten rule to allow them to hold the power no matter where they’re at. However, you worked tirelessly without coffee or other form of caffeine in your system and you wanted your work to be appreciated. 

 

Pulling out your portfolio, you pushed it across the table, tapping it lightly before placing your hands in your lap. “From my calculations and research, I do believe they would be a viable client, especially with their recently won cases; civil actions filed by ex-employees out with a vendetta. I would also recommend contacting them as soon as possible as it seems Stark made them an offer to …”

 

“How do you know this information?” Steve intersected, his brows tugged together.

 

You hesitated in confessing your contact with the researched client. “I spoke … with the client.”

 

“You what?”

 

“I understand it probably wasn’t the best thing to do and I might have crossed a line however, you left me with little to no resources and little to no time to provide you with a substantial answer; contacting the client and getting first hand accounts seemed like the best solution at the time.” Steve said nothing for a moment, leaving you wanting to squirm in your seat. It wasn’t until the waiter approached the table when Steve peeled his darkened gaze from you. 

 

After your orders were given and the waiter left the table, Steve said nothing as he flipped through your offered portfolio. Silence fell over the table and your fingers itched to be between your teeth, an old habit you thought you had gotten rid of years ago. 

 

“Despite the defacement of my property.” Steve finally spoke, closing the portfolio. He lifted his head, pushing your work toward you all the while you wondered how he knew about your art project on his windows. “You did a phenomenal job and I am highly impressed. Now, for the next order of business.” With brows pulled together, you watched as Steve dug into his briefcase, pulling out and placing a large packet of documents on top of your empty glass plate.

“What is this?” you inquired, flipping through the pages.

“This is a two part contact. The first part is your one year employment stating you are unable to quit your job but are able to be let go if you violate any or all regulations. If you continue to do your work efficiently, the contract will be extended upon your one year. If you’d flip to page four, section 5B, that will be your new salary.” Flipping to the instructed page, your eyes widened at the dollar amount.

“And the second part?” Your eyes lifted to meet Steve’s gaze, seeing it quickly darken.

“The second part is more of a personal matter. It is a contract keeping all matters between us confidential.”

“And why do they need to stay confidential?” It was a question you assumed would be answered mentioning your relationship with Tony Stark. However, you were not prepared for the words to come.

“Because, if you were to agree and sign, I would like to keep our sexual affairs as private as possible.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Summary: After getting your own office and your first assignment, you race to beat the clock … and are met with a surprise. (im terrible at summarizing stuff. Just read it!)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Word Count: 1736  
> Warnings: SMUT

You were given a week to provide your decision, along with the responsibility of representing the client you had advised Steve to take on.

As much as you wanted to focus solely on your work and ensure you were able to operate your job accordingly, the contract and its contents continued to creep in the back of your mind. It was kept in the top locked drawer of your desk calling out your name to review it once again. However, the hundreds of times your eyes had scanned each word, nothing changed and it was, in fact, a contract to have private sexual relations with your boss - the CEO of RR&B.

You spoke nothing of the contract or the lunch meeting to Wanda or Sam who had repeatedly questioned your unexplained changed demeanor. Blaming it on the sudden shift in work, you’d return to your room and locked the door ensuring Wanda knew to keep her distance. Of course you felt terrible for blocking her out, especially since it was because of her connection to RR&B you were able to get the job. But this was something you needed to figure out on your own. You were given a week to provide your decision.

It was a little passed seven in the evening and you stared blankly at your dimmed computer screen. Steve’s face still stretched across the screen winked at you with a radiating smile. He expected your response by the time you departed; the partial reason why you hadn’t left your office while the rest of the employees had gone home for the night. It was like having a temporary safe haven until you realized the office belonged to the very man you were trying to avoid.

It was all appealing - like having the Devil dangle your greatest desire in front of your face. However, there was hesitation within your thoughts. You’ve seen Fifty Shades of Grey, you’ve read many books just like it; you didn’t want to be some damsel in distress or be his ‘saving grace’ to whatever pitiful thing he had going on in his life. 

 

Growing up with a single mother, you learned how to be independent; worrying about and caring only for your own well-being and ensuring you were able to handle your own. Stemming from this, your standards were very high when it came to the special someone you allowed enter your life. They had to be like you in a sense where they could take care of themselves. And though Steve Rogers didn’t need someone to financially take care of him, you weren’t sure if he needed someone to mentally hold him.

 

_ ‘He seems perfectly capable,’ _ you thought with an audible sigh.

Leaning back in your seat, you opened your top drawer, pulling out the contract. Placing it in front of you, you flipped to the second page. It wasn’t a large contract, in fact, it was three full pages. It outlined the confidential relationship the two ‘parties’ would hold. There was nothing about whips or chains; nothing about Dominant or Submissive relationships. There was a section dedicated to contraceptives; as there should be.

Page two was the most important part of the contract:

 

_ Section V. Paragraph 4. _

Parties shall not enter into other sexual relationships while under contract. If a party is suspected and is found to be copulating with other(s), the contract will then be voided.

This meant, if signed, you belonged to Steve Rogers, and he you, and this wasn’t the kind of relationship you were looking for.

“I’m assuming you’re in the process of signing?” 

 

Your eyes lifted, meeting the icy blue gaze of Steve Rogers as he entered your office, his usual strut causing your thighs to press together. “If I sign, does that mean you’ll learn the art of knocking?” Leaning back in your seat, you offered a playful smile; he combated with a frown.

“Not likely.” You sighed, rolling your eyes at him as you placed your pen on top of the contract. “However, I would request you stopped with the eye rolling.” His comment caused you to laugh - something he didn’t take lightly. “Is there something funny?”

“Yes, actually,” you responded, with a shrug. “This. All of this; I feel like I’m being Punk’d or something.” You paused. “Is that what this is? Some sort new employee hazing? If that’s the case then great job, you really had me going but I think it’s time to stop.” Getting to your feet, you picked up the contract, handing it to him.

Steve looked down to the contract, keeping his hands deep within his pockets. “I can assure you this isn’t a prank, Ms. Y/L/N. May I ask what is hindering you from signing?” Narrowing your eyes to him, you took a step back, placing the contract back onto your desk. A soft sigh escaped your lips as you leaned against your desk, your arms folding across your chest. “From where I’m standing, it’s a fool proof contract where we both benefit.”

 

“I don’t know, Steve. Maybe it’s ‘cause once I enter into this binding relationship you want, I belong to you, and only you.”

 

“And I you. I still don’t see an issue here.” His head lightly tilted, his brows furrowing.

 

“But what if it’s not … ya know?” You shrugged, hating how illiterate you suddenly became when trying to explain your point. But it seemed Steve understood; he nodded in understanding. 

 

“You’re worried what I have to offer isn’t worth signing a contract and giving yourself up for.” Steve took a step forward, undoing his jacket pocket.

 

“Yeah,” you confirmed, watching him closely. 

 

“Why didn’t you say so? If you wanted a taste, all you had to do was ask.” Next thing you knew, Steve’s hand was against your cheek, his lips lightly landing against yours; almost as if he was testing the waters. Immediately your arms untangled and held onto his, lightly squeezing against the flexed muscles causing the material of his grey suit to stretch. Upon feeling this, Steve pressed a little harder into the kiss, holding you tightly against him. 

 

Instinctively you moaned against his lips, your mouth slightly opening, inviting him in. A hand placed gently against his cheek, loving the feel of his tamed beard against your palm. Tongues fought for dominance but yours was quickly defeated as his scent seemed to deter all your ambition to overpower him. Instead, you allowed yourself to melt in his kiss, in his touch as his lips left yours, moving to your jawline, to your collarbone. 

 

“Lay back,” he instructed you, getting to his knees. Without hesitation, you moved the items in your path and happily did as your were told but propped yourself up on your elbows to watch his every move. With your teeth biting down onto your lower lip, you watched as Steve reached a smooth hand into your skirt, palming your cunt. “Jesus,” he whispered, his eyes closing for a brief moment as he felt just how wet you were for him. Smirking down at him, your eyes rolled as his finger slid within your underwear, sliding between your folds. “That’s the kind of eye rolling I want to see from now on,” he spoke authoritatively.    
  
“Yes sir,” you whispered, propping your hip up as he removed your underwear. Tossing it aside, he then pushed your skirt exposing your thighs. Using his hand to spread your legs apart, he moved forward to place kisses against your inner thigh. You took a sharp breath in, loving the feeling of his beard scratching against your skin. 

 

You allowed your head to fall back, your long hair piling against the desk as Steve’s kisses traveled up your thigh, his hot breath causing shivers to travel up your spine. That’s when you felt his tongue slide it’s way between your folds; one gentle but long stroke. You let out a breath, your hips bucking against the feel.    
  


“Damn, you taste good, doll.” It was his whisper and the feeling of his tongue sliding against your cunt once again causing your legs to quiver. You placed a leg over his shoulder as the other was held in its place by his massive hand. A moan shook in your chest and your body fell fully against your desk as his tongue began to work wonders against your clit. Lick after lick, swirl after swirl, you could feel yourself getting to the brink of letting go; and so could he. With each second passing by, Steve watched as you trembled beneath his touch. With your clit swollen, throbbing from the intensity of his feverous strokes, you gripped onto the desk. Just as your other hand traveled down to tangle your fingers within his hair, you suddenly felt him stop and move - hovering over you. 

 

“If you want to finish, you’ve gotta sign.” Your chest heaved up and down, your breath quick with frustration. Propping yourself up on your elbow, you reached over to the contract, moving over to you. Finding a pen, you flipped to the back page and signed the contract, sending a glare his way.

 

“Done. Get back on your knees,” you instructed him. 

 

With a smirk, Steve obeyed with a smirk. “Gladly.”


End file.
